I woke up that fine morning with an especially titillating image, that of my female roommate’s breasts bouncing joyfully through my head. I was great to be a college student indulged in the land of sexual freedom. This happy visual was soon dissipated as the visuals of that morbid September day soon came to realization on the quickly breaking news. Like many at that time I had the yearning to call my family and be close to the ones I loved. It was peculiar as that I hadn’t spoken to my mother or father in about two weeks. They had picked up my broken computer, to take it back home for repairs and I was hoping to hear from them soon, but now had a more pressing reason to call…

Often people will remember a historic moment of time they experienced in their lives and reflect on it by saying that “It started out just like any other day.” Well my day was pretty messed up to begin with. Around 12AM I returned to my off campus apartment to find my good friend and house mate Alexis sitting half-naked on the couch with some random guy. Although she wasn’t wearing a shirt, she was wearing a huge shit-eating grin. She knew I was coming back. She thought this was hysterical. I could almost hear the guys’ disappointment, screaming out from his crotch at the site of me. “Nothing, not everyone hasn’t seen before,” I said; just to piss the random dude off even more. Alexis laughed hysterically. They weren’t even drunk.

“Why don’t you take a picture?” her victim sarcastically asks. “Yeah! Take a picture!” Alexis states, totally serious. Next thing I know my Sony Digital 8 is in my hand. This is an opportunity that every man knows you do not pass up. After a few clicks the breasts are securely captured. Victory is mine.

“I love college,” I thought as I let the two lovers alone and went to my room to finish a videotape of some good old-fashioned pornography: College Cuties with Enormous Booties. I fell asleep to the warm glow of my television as across it, a shapely co-eds bulbous buttocks rhythmic motions lulled my eyelids closed. Little did I know that the next day it would not be this morose smut I craved but a call from mom.

So as NYC was under a cloud of smoke on the television, I called home. My father picked up the phone. “Hi Dad, did you hear what-” I began. What kind of horrors could supersede those that played out before the world’s eyes? “I like all the smut you have on your computer.” My sixty-six year old, retired high school teacher dad tells me. “What are you talking about?” and as I ask this, the realization hits me. But it couldn’t be. I erased all the porno before my dad picked up my computer to take it to the repair shop. But alas somewhere in the vast reaches of my computers hard drive I had missed one little morsel of porn. Apparently the tech guy thought I was like 12 and informed my parents of everything last tidbit of raunch I had kept on my machine. Nerd. I hope he gets electrocuted by his own grease and oil on what are no doubt pudgy little, zit popping fingers, when he reaches them into the guts some other porn loving kids PC.

What could have I missed? Maybe a pic of Peaches topless, some hot DP action, a Ron Jeremy video clip, or perhaps a sweet money shot was the culprit? At any rate they found it. I tried to cover. My dad was old. He has never used a computer in his life. I would smother him in computer lingo. “Dad, it was probably one of my friends- or I know- there are these viruses that change word files into JPEGS which hackers usually make pornographic. That was probably what crashed the motherboard in the first place.”

I had no idea what the hell I was talking about. He wasn’t buying it anyway. If he only knew of the digital photograph I now possessed. Here is he is lecturing me on the evils of pornography and I had just taken my first nudie shot the night before. How was I going to explain what was on the computer to him? Most guys I knew, their dad had some Penthouse or Hustler lying around the bathroom and it wasn’t a big deal. Their fathers would have been proud of a son who not only had a quality porn collection on his desktop, but also was a budding amateur photographer of the genre. But my dad was old enough to be my grandfather. When he was a kid they didn’t even have Playboy yet. In his day a naked woman was a rare and precious commodity. Something to be treasured and revered. Kids today. “I want you to get all that crap off of there. You could be arrested. It’s illegal.” I was beginning to see that an explanation would be impossible. Both computers and pornography we’re completely foreign to him. The only encounter he had ever had with the wondrous joys of cyber erotica was when he heard about some pervert on the news being arrested for uploading kiddie porn.

In one day my fathers country was attacked and he found out his son is a pederast.

“If we find any more girlie photos on there, were taking your computer away.” Great. My father was intent on exposing my affinity for smut while the world is burning. Osama could be hiding in our broom closet and my father would be more concerned as to what type of periodicals are hiding under my bed mattress.

As a young American you have the right to a single dorm room and a High Speed Internet connection. People from less fortunate countries are merely jealous of this luxury that we take for granted. And that’s what they are fighting about. It’s not about the oil or a little strip of land. No, it’s about the freedom to be a pervert. And that’s about as American as a vaginal harpoon tube strapped to a Texas hooker.

Where the terrorists are from, women are wrapped up like a Christmas present. When’s the last time you ever got off to a Christmas present under the tree? These guys are pent up like an Iraqi oil well about to explode. And when guys get pent up, they get pissed off. And when these guys get pissed off, American shit starts blowing up. See, if Al Cada had broadband at their terrorist training camp and a Yearly Password Subscription to Muslim Whores Getting Nailed on Camels Dotcom, we wouldn’t have all this “Death to the Great Satan” business. They would be our brethren in sexual depravity. So instead of bombs we should be showering them with copies of Barley Legal.

So if I don’t look at Internet porn the terrorists have won. If I am not given the freedom to indulge in perverse adaptations of nature’s way of ensuring the survival of the species, the terrorists have won. By God, if I am not allowed rub one out to Jenna Jameson (Boy, I’d like to slam my jet into her!) We might as well go round up the stripers and porn stars and put them in burkas. Doesn’t he see this? But alas my Dad thinks I’m a pornographer. It’s only Tuesday- what else could go wrong today?

Later that day a small group of my friends and I are gathered around the television watching CNN. Everyone is silent. I couldn’t help but think of my own crimes against humanity. How humiliating.

“I can’t stand watching this anymore.” Alexis says as she abruptly gets up and leaves the room. Now I can finally tell everyone of my photographic achievement of the night before. “You guys want to hear something fucked up? I saw Alexis’s tits last night. And I got a picture.” No one was paying attention.